


Now

by wifidelis



Series: Now [1]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Awkward Romance, Fluff, How it all happened, Husk is Also Bad at Feelings, Idiots in Love, M/M, Slow Burn, So They Are Bad at Feeling Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21966862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wifidelis/pseuds/wifidelis
Summary: Ever wonderhowHusk and Alastor became a "thing"? Yeah, Husk wonders that too.But with trust, alcohol, gambling, and pining, anything is possible.
Relationships: Alastor/Husk (Hazbin Hotel)
Series: Now [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1600579
Comments: 32
Kudos: 306





	Now

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals!
> 
> I haven't proof read this one either, so here it is! Another RadioHusk fic for Christmas, without the Christmas.  
> Because y'know. They're in Hell.
> 
> Anyways, please enjoy!

Husker woke up growling when he felt something poke the underside of his chin. Honey gold eyes peeled open in the murk of the night, magenta and amber bleeding through the slightly parted curtains of his room. He was annoyed and confused until he remembered what the weight on his chest was from and why there was a pair of thin arms wrapped around his neck. A simple glance down was all he needed for the annoyance to evaporate and that nasty mushy feeling to melt his heart into a puddle.

Alastor was wrapped around him like a constrictor, snoring softly. The hum of whitenoise ebbed and flowed with his breath, ear occasionally twitching. He was nestled deep in Husker’s chest fluff, one of his legs very confusingly wrapped around Husker’s. What had woken Husker up was Alastor attempting to tuck his head under Husk’s chin, his antlers jabbing the cat with every try.

Husk sighed and rolled over on his side, not even bothering to stop the lopsided smile that broke free with Al’s weak whine of a protest when his weight was shifted off of Husker’s furnace of a body. One crimson eye peaked open, eyebrow raising in confusion when he put together Husker’s small smirk.

“ _ Quel...? _ ” He mumbled, eye already drooping back shut. Husk said nothing, instead electing to run fingers through Alastor’s hair, claws scratching gently at his undercut. His poor heart nearly exploded when Alastor buried his face in his shoulder, arms relocking themselves around his neck. Legs tangled themselves back as Husk tugged the blankets back over them from where Husk had probably shoved them off. Alastor’s whitenoise resumed as he fell back into dreamland, forehead pressed under Husk’s chin as the younger demon tried to lean away from antlers. Husk closed his eyes and tightened his grip on Al, holding him closer. Al made a small sound in his sleep, and Husk wanted to kiss the hell out of him.

He wasn’t sure what exactly it was that made him love these moments. Alastor had begun wandering into his room much longer than the deer demon would care to admit. They’d been sleeping in the same bed for a shorter time, but usually Alastor would fall asleep on the other side of the queen sized mattress and then inevitably insert himself in Husk’s personal space in the night. Alastor would wake up grouchy that Husk was holding him, but wouldn’t move because the world was cold and Husk was warm.

Husk thought he loved them because he was the only person in the world who Alastor would do this with. Not even in his living life had Alastor ever been in love (or whatever this was), and Husk was certain as fuck that Alastor would have never chosen an ill-mannered, hot-tempered alcoholic gambler for his cuddle buddy. Yet he did. In the weirdest way possible, he did. Husk cherished the memory because

_ because Alastor had wandered to him, just like he did now, when he was confused and baffled out of his mind. Husker had been having one of the best nights of his gambling career. He didn’t even know Alastor had entered the pool hall, much less watched half of his matches, until Alastor had sat himself down next to Husker and declared himself Husker’s partner when they began team matches. _

_ Husker was very drunk. He wondered how the hell his brain was functioning when he threw an arm around Alastor’s shoulders that night, dragging their cheeks smack dab together as Husker loudly and proudly proclaimed that everyone at this table was absolutely and utterly  _ fucked  _ now that Al was here to kick their asses. Alastor had merely smiled when he examined his cards, and Husker hadn’t noticed that Alastor didn’t flinch from his sudden assault of touch or that his face flushed pink. _

_ Husk loved playing cards with Al. He’d never admit it, not even now. Al not only knew his shit, but he was an old pro at bluffing and playing around a bad hand. Husker would always say Alastor was a natural born gambler even when he fought or killed. Alastor was a master of deceit, of faking his hand and underplaying his own abilities, but most importantly… Alastor could put on a show. Husker could read right through Alastor’s script when he faked a hand or they met their gazes from across the table, just like Husker knew when to dive behind an overturned car when Alastor released an entourage of shadows to rip some unfortunate fucker to shreds. Maybe it was because Husker had stuffed Alastor’s intestines back in his guts, or because Alastor had dragged Husk home by the tail on many a drunken excursion. Maybe it was because Alastor would help teach him French or because Husker listened to Al ramble about nothing uninterrupted for hours on end. _

_ But they were a  _ hell of a team.

_ When Alastor revealed a four of a kind right before Husk pulled out a royal flush, Husker could’ve kissed him then and there. _

_ Alastor had good naturedly entertained Husker pounding back a few more whiskeys at the bar before collecting his winnings and hitting the streets. He’d listened to Husker ramble about the art that was gambling without a word until Husk realized that. That. That Alastor wasn’t  _ talking.  _ Alastor always had something to say. About anything. He could make  _ lard  _ sound interesting, so why wasn’t he- _

_ Husker hadn’t even realized he’d stumbled into the hole in the wall of a flat he called somewhat of a home until Alastor home to unlock it for him. The cat demon had staggered to his mini bar that would put a distillery to shame and asked Al if he wanted his god damn fucking Courvoisier when Alastor very bluntly said _

_ “I have a problem.” _

_ It had stopped Husker in his tracks. Husker considered himself a very dense drunk when he was plastered, but he sobered up within seconds. He had turned around with the cognac bottle between claws when Alastor threw himself on Husker’s couch, looking like he was seconds away from losing his creepy ass smile. _

_ Husk didn’t even know what to say. Alastor, Alastor of all fucking demons in Hell, didn’t have problems. Husk had problems. Husk was the alcoholic, Husk ended up gambling every night, Husk was the one that had to get dragged out of bar fights, and Husk was the one that vomited his guts out and woke up with headaches more painful than an actual nail gun going off through his eye. Alastor was perfect. Alastor was composed until blood touched his tongue or he got the scent of a kill stuck in his brain. Alastor was composed until someone brought up sex or touched him or- _

_ Okay, maybe Alastor did have problems. Alastor just didn’t have problems that rendered him useless until 3pm the next day. Alastor had the kind of problems that came with having an uncontrollable urge to rip things limb from limb every three days. _

_ Husk sat down across from him in a rickety old armchair with stuffing popping out of the arms, eyebrows raised high. Alastor was wringing his hands, teeth gnashing. He was anxious. _

_ “Wha’s the problem?” Husk forced out, the hint of surprise very evident in his voice. _

_ Alastor looked lost. The Radio fucking Demon just threw up his hands and let them slap right back on his face, covering it from Husk’s view. _

_ “I… You… You know I struggle with… people here?” _

_ Oh yes, Husk knew. Alastor’s social circle was… was, well, composed of Niffty and him. Alastor was often ridiculed by the eldritch demons he walked among, the Overlords who thought he bartered his way up with stolen power and brute force. And weaker demons were simply petrified of him, which Alastor certainly played into. Husk had never really stopped to consider the fact that Alastor might be fucking  _ lonely _ , because how could you ever consider that a sociopathic serial killer might be lonely? Didn’t that go against the whole archetype? _

_ Alastor looked so uncomfortable and out of his element that Husk was shocked this conversation was even happening, but it was sure as hell ripping him back into sobriety fast. _

_ “I mean… You don’t usually like them,” Husk tried. Alastor bit his tongue. _

_ “It’s… I didn’t understand this even existed until much, much later after I died, but…” Alastor was fumbling through his sentence. “I… am asexual. In Hell.” _

_ Why Alastor was letting a situation go out of his control, Husk did not understand. Alastor craved control like Husk craved Jack Daniels. Not only that… but Alastor was being  _ vulnerable _. _

_ “I don’t know what that means,” Husk said flatly. He was lost. _

_ Alastor had taken to spinning his cane between his knees, oblivious to the fact that the cane was getting very, very dizzy. “It’s… I am repulsed by sex. I… don’t want it or anything that comes with it. I… have no drive for it.” _

_ “That makes this place about a million times worse,” Husk nodded. It made sense. Husk knew Alastor had never had relationships besides family and a small circle of friends when he was alive. And the time period Al had lived in would have been difficult to understand asexuality. But in Hell… well, sex was everyone’s favorite past time. Fuck, what was there to do besides get it on? _

_ Alastor was quiet, so Husk filled the gap for him before his radio screeching could get any louder. “So, is that why you don’t like other demons? Or being out and about? Or things touching you?” _

_ Al shrugged. “It… Is difficult to form relationships without it involved here. The touching aspect… I’m not sure. If I initiate touch, that’s fine. But if someone touches me, I dislike it.” _

_ Husk’s sirens went off. “I grabbed you earlier-” Oh yeah he was sober now. _

_ “I-it was fine then!” Did Alastor just  _ stutter _? “It… didn’t bother me.” _

_ “Oh,” Husker blanked. “Good?” _

_ Alastor paused for a very, very long time to the point Husk thought he either fell asleep with his eyes open or was dissociating like when he was craving a kill. But then he took a deep breath, looked Husker right in the eye, and said it. _

_ “That is my problem.” _

_ “What is?” _

_ “I… You… It’s different.” _

_ Husker was confused. A lot, but he was trying to not make Al want to hurl a knife at his head or walk out the door. _

_ “You,” Alastor clutched his cane with a death grip, staring at the floor. His coat shifted, and Husk could see the red bladed knives resting on his hip. “I… enjoy your presence more than anyone’s. Even when I was alive, I have never enjoyed being around a being as much as I enjoy you.” _

_ Husk was frozen when Al looked up at him with such an earnestly confused expression that it even hurt his heart. _

_ “I… don’t understand it.” _

_ Was Alastor… Did Alastor… Was this a fucking confession? Husk was floored. He sunk down in the chair, trying to process the fact that this dumbass motherfucker was trying to muddle his way through emotions he’d never experienced before in his goddamn living room, and that Alastor might honestly. Might honestly be in love- _

_ Not, Husker wasn’t even going to consider it. Al didn’t love him the way Husker loved him. Because, yes, Husker adored Alastor. He thought this kooky crazy deer brat was the best thing since sliced bread, and he hated it. Alastor was charming as fuck. Alastor was the only person he could stand down here, and it wasn’t just because Alastor was strong. Even during the first time he’d met Alastor, Husker was enraptured with how effortlessly Alastor wreaked havoc both physically and emotionally for him. He put Vietnam to shame. _

_ Eugh, Vietnam. They weren’t going there tonight. Alastor. This was about Alastor. Alastor and his wit and his ability to make Husker laugh and help Husker learn French and make him weirdass food- _

_ Alastor and his stupid handsome face. _

_ “What… exactly do I make you feel?” Husk asked quietly. Because there was no way this was happening, but Alastor kept talking. He was here. _

_ “I feel listless when we aren’t together,” Alastor had resumed spinning his mic. Poor thing. “I… worry about you. Often. I… enjoy your smile. And your laugh, and I find myself trying to make those rare glimpses common every time we cross paths.” _

_ Oh,  _ fucking Christ on a cross-

_ “Have you ever been in love, Al?” _

_ Husker had to ask it, but when what little color that remained in Al’s face washed right out, his heart nearly stopped again. Alastor’s cane went up in smoke as in dematerialized and the sound that followed him stopped. _

_ “N-no.” _

_ Alastor’s voice was off the air. There was no show anymore. The tin was gone. _

_ This was Alastor’s real voice. _

_ “... Al, I think you’re in love.” _

_ Al shook his head. “But that… it doesn’t-” _

_ “You can love someone without the… other things you don’t like involved,” Husk said softly. “Sex doesn’t mean love.” _

_ “... So I love you.” _

_ It was a statement, not a question. Husk gulped. _

_ “... I’m going to kill myself.” _

_ Husk almost lunged when he thought Alastor was going for one of his knives, knowing damn well those suckers were the knives that could rip a demon out of second existence, but settled back in his chair when Al just hugged himself and threw his head back on the back on the couch. Eventually Al took a deep breath and stood up. _

_ “... I will leave you alone. I don’t expect you to feel the same or deal with such ridiculousness-” _

_ “N-no, that’s-” Husk was trying to get his shit together. “I don’t… want you to leave.” _

_ Alastor quickly sat back down. It almost made Husker laugh hysterically because this fucker was actually  _ cute _.  _

_ “So…?” _

_ “I don’t… I don’t think either of us love like normal,” Husk said simply. “... But I’d rather be alone with you forever than spend a moment with anyone else.” _

_ Alastor’s shoulder finally relaxed. “What… now?” _

_ Now _ , Husker thought,  _ you stop poking me with your fucking antlers whenever you do this shit.  _

Husker cherished that moment because he loved the real Alastor. The Alastor without the show or the pompous voice or the flexes of power. He loved Alastor with his New Orleans accented French and his snoring and his fucking  _ antlers that kept poking him- _

Husk sighed. If that was the worst thing Alastor could do to him at this point, then so be it.

He looked down again. Alastor was starting to stir in the half-light, yawning and bearing shark-like teeth while crimson eyes flickered to life with the click of a radio. Sleepy eyes traveled up to Husk and he smiled.

Genuinely, actually gave Husk a smile, a non-stretched out smile with no teeth when Husk pushed his sleep matted bangs out of his eyes.

“ _ Bonjour _ ,” Husk greeted. Alastor hummed at the use of French, but made no effort to move. Lazy fucker.

Like Husk was one to talk.

Instead, he went back to playing with Al’s hair, claws eventually caressing a sharp cheek, heart fluttering when Alastor nuzzled into his touch.

“You’re too fucking cute to be as insane as you are,” Husk murmured. Alastor chuckled as his ears slowly perked back up, peeling away from Husk to meet his gaze. Husk just smiled. Because what else are you supposed to do when you saw your bed headed sleepy partner still half asleep with nothing but adoration in their eyes for you?

You didn’t say anything, that’s what you did. Husk knew this level of trust was rare in Hell, rarer even from Alastor the fucking Radio Demon. Their relationship was simple and uncomplicated, based on trust and a mutual bond that neither wanted erased. Maybe it was love, maybe it wasn’t. Husker certainly didn’t care about anyone else this way when Alastor rolled onto his back, stretching with all his bones popping and creaking in the red light of the hellish night. The deer-like man yawned again and turned over on his other side as the noise clicked off.

Husk let him be. Alastor was Alastor, and Alastor chose when Alastor was touched except when Husk was throwing him around trying to bandage him up or throw him in the shower after a grisly example of Alastor’s  _ showmanship _ . In Husker terms: murder.

Husk wasn’t going to sleep, so what to do  _ now _

_ “-now? I don’t fuckin’ know,” Husker’s voice was incredulous. “... Maybe a shot of whiskey?” _

_ Alastor looked absolutely exhausted. “Has this conversation sobered you to that extent?” _

_ “Absofuckinglutely,” Husk was already throwing the cognac bottle to Alastor and climbing out of his chair for his precious Jack Daniels. When he returned with a shot glass and a normal glass for Al, he was unsurprised to see that Al hadn’t touched the bottle. _

_ “... Okay, maybe we shouldn’t drink.” _

_ “I think that would be wise,” Alastor murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose. Husker set his bottle on the coffee table between them with the glasses, curling back up in his chair, waiting for Alastor to lead the conversation. Because Alastor knew things. Alastor always had solutions, always had answers… but the longer Husk watched Alastor’s face become more and more conflicted, he realized that Alastor didn’t know what the fuck to do. _

_ “You’ve never had a girlfriend? Like, absolutely no experience with anything in that field?” Husk was holding his tail like a security blanket. Al shook his head. Husk swore. Loudly. _

_ Husk really just wanted to slam that Jack Daniels back and forget this conversation happened, but the way Al’s larger than anything down below the earth persona was shrinking was scaring the shit out of him. Husker hated dealing with other people’s problems. Fuck, he hated his own problems. He just wanted everything erased and blissfully boozed out- _

_ Well, that obviously wasn’t a solution here. _

_ “Al, what do you want to do?” _

_ Alastor finally pulled himself up and together enough to look Husk in the eye. He looked cornered. Husk did not want him to feel that way. At all. Husk wasn’t an Alastor expert, but he could guess what Al was thinking. Al, who lived in solitude in  _ Hell  _ for 42 years before convincing Husker to join his merry band of chaos creators. Al, who trusted not a single soul even when he was alive. Al, who was constantly looking over his shoulder in life and in death. Al, who could barely stand to be touched and who reacted with a flight reflex, not a fight reflex- _

_ “Al?” _

_ Alastor leaned forward and buried his face in his hands, claws digging like knives into his scalp. Husk had already reached across the table before stopping, not sure what was happening but scared of the outcome. It was a tense, tense moment when Alastor, of all people, screamed “fuck!” and looked up at Husker completely lost because his ears flattened back and his shoulders were hiked up and he was shaking. _

_ “I can’t-” _

_ “Al, just breathe.” _

_ Oh, yes, Alastor the Radio Demon was having a panic attack. Husk started counting breaths and talking as Alastor’s hands dug tighter before collapsing forward onto the table, air glitching red and static around them. Husk himself was making as minimal noise as possible except for talking, which he absolutely needed to keep doing because Al’s horns were expanding out and the noise around him was getting really really  _ really LOUD.

_ “Alastor, control yourself. Breathe and rope it in.” _

_ Alastor’s fingers were carving jagged grooves in the shitty plywood as everything started to buckle itself back down. Al’s horns shrunk. His aura vanished. The sound resumed its general static and whitenoise, albeit slightly more wound and tense. _

_ “Al, I know your whole shtick is about control, but you’ve gotta explain this one to me.” _

_ He still hadn’t raised his head, but as far as Alastor’s lows went, this definitely wasn’t the worst. _

_ “Al, come on. This is a conversation that’s gotta happen. I can go first.” _

_ “It’s… I don’t want… to get attached to anything. And these aren’t… feelings that I am used to, or have ever had, and quite frankly the strength of them is startling. And… and if… Will I look weak, what if I couldn’t protect you, what if I get urges to k-kill you-” _

_ “Brother, if you were going to kill me, it would have been when I taped your individual fingers to the floor to stop you from magicking me into the wall every time I tried to shove your intestines back in your body.” _

_ Alastor let out a weak laugh. “I did want to kill you then.” _

_ “... But as for looking weak, ain’t nobody gotta know. This can just be… us. No one else. If you want it, it’ll just be what it is.” _

_ “My afterlife is bloody, Husker.” _

_ “Yeah, I am very aware,” Husk snorted. “I’ve fought with you, I’ve set your bones in place, I’ve seen you eat other demons, do you want me to continue?” _

_ “... If they target you-” _

_ “Boofuckinghoo, they’d be doing me a favor putting me out of my misery.” _

_ Alastor visibly flinched at that, so Husk quickly corrected it by saying of course he wouldn’t actively seek erasement or eradication. Al slowly peeled his head from the ruined plywood, looking Husk in the eye. _

_ “This scares me more than anything, and I’ve personally dealt with voodoo gods.” _

_ Husk shrugged. “Okay, but you’re talking like this is going somewhere.” _

_ “... Doesn’t it have to?” _

_ Husk quickly disagreed, shaking his head violently. “Nonononono. No it does not. Only if you and I are both okiefuckindokie with it, and obviously you are NOT-” _

_ “-I… Just don’t know how to feel-” _

_ “So that’s  _ okay _ ,” Husk interjected. “We can just… let it evolve on its own.” _

Oh and evolved it had because Alastor was back on Husk and had shoved the book he was reading right out of his hands and practically forced Husk to scratch at the very  _ very  _ specific place behind Alastor’s right ear that liked being scratched.

Husk was sort of ready to throttle him, but let the feeling go. Just because he was feeling generous. Generous until he saw one crimson eye open when Husk went to retrieve his fallen novel.

“You act like a fucking cat,” Husk flicked his temple. “You’re supposed to be some kinda fuckin’ deer thing and you act like a  _ cat _ .”

“Hmmmm,” Alastor hummed. “You act much more like a cat than I.”

“Y’know fuckin’- y’know fuckin’ what?” Husk slapped his book right down in Al’s horns, balancing it perfectly between the antlers. Al made some kind of noise of protest at being used as a book holder until Husk started running claws through his hair again.

“You’re awfully fuckin’ needy for an asexual prick who hates touch.”

“You’re not touching my skin.”

“Al, what the fuck do you think is under your hair? Do you not have a scalp or something?”

Al snapped and duct tape slapped itself over Husker’s mouth, which the cat immediately ripped off and slapped on the headboard behind them. A low growl rumbled in his throat before Alastor took his hand off his head, and held it. Quietly. Suspiciously …Too intimately.

“What are you doing?”

Al held it tighter. Husk was about to go back into reading when Al abruptly sat up, plucking the book from his antler’s, and flopping down square on Husk’s chest with a blanket between them. Husk just groaned.

“Alastor, pick a spot and go to  _ the fuck  _ to sleep.”

“I pick here. You should follow suit.”

“You know I can’t.”

Alastor raised himself slightly, watching Husk with… a worried(?) expression.

“I can use magic to make you tired.”

Husk patted his head. His heart kind of warmed up at Alastor actually trying to help instead of bother him and piss him off. Alastor asked again about five times before Husk finally relented into letting Al magic him up, though his anxiety about the prospect increased tenfold when Al slid off of him and onto the floor, wandering out of the bedroom. The anxiety only increased as Husk considered that Al might be planning to witch doctor him into sleeping for fuck knows how long, but…

… but when Al returned with a warm cup of chamomile tea, he was pleasantly surprised. Husk took the cup carefully when Alastor settled beside him, looking proud of himself.

“ _ Maman  _ always added lemon to hers, so I did the same,” Alastor watched Husk swirl the cup in his hands. “As an eyewitness, I can safely assure you this put her to sleep in less than ten minutes after one cup!”

Husk looked over at Al, who was giving him that soft dorky grin that warmed him head to toe. Instead of waiting like a rational human being, Husker downed the cup in one gulp like he was shotgunning a beer, getting a quiet chuckle out of Alastor. He set the cup aside, and looked over at Al, who was rearranging his blankets into a small pile over him.

“Thank you.”

Alastor blinked in surprise, perking back up to meet honey gold eyes with a bright smile. “Of course, darling. You need sleep.”

Husker was starting to feel the tea kick in when he laid down. Alastor set blankets over him before watching Husk’s eyes droop shut. After a moment of consideration, Al laid down and tugged on Husker’s hand, pulling the little demon onto his shoulder. Husk immediately curled up like a cat, one arm thrown over Al’s body. Husk purred when Alastor took his hand, kissing Husk’s wrist before they both settled back in.

“... The little things make me happy.”

Alastor chuckled, the sound light and airy in his chest. Husker loved it.

“I know, my dear.”

“... You make me happy.”

“Well, I’m glad,” Alastor laughed again. Sleepy Husk was a Soft Husk. Husk nuzzled Alastor’s collarbone before giving the world a final fanged yawn. Alastor simply held him tighter, rolling onto his side so Husk could tuck himself against Alastor chest. Husk started purring when Alastor nuzzled his nose in the top of Husk’s head, and Alastor could smile. Smile for real and without a show, just the way Husker loved.

“ _ Я тебя люблю _ …” Husker mumbled from somewhere deep in sleep.

  
“ _ Je t’aime aussi, mon amour, _ ” Alastor murmured, closing his own eyes as Husk’s purrs drug both of them to a warm, dreamless sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> You want to know _why_ these idiots fell for each other? You want to see the actual pining before the confession?
> 
> Yeah, I'm workin' on that too just give me a second. I hope you enjoyed reading!
> 
> **** Also: "Я тебя люблю" is "I love you" in Russian. "Je t’aime aussi, mon cher" is "I love you too, my dear." The French could be wrong because of Google Translate, but the Russian is not because I speak that ish. Pardon me milking Russian, but it is the only language of Husk's that I can actually speak!


End file.
